


don't threaten me with a good time

by liarlagoon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Rated T for language, connor gets absolutely wasted on old thirium lmao, drunk!Connor, this is just 4000 words of nonsense have fun kiddos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liarlagoon/pseuds/liarlagoon
Summary: Connor really should’ve known better. It was North’s idea, as most bad ideas Connor engaged in were.“Hey, Connor,” she called out, holding it out for him to take with a mischievous grin on her face. “I dare you to drink this.”





	don't threaten me with a good time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silverfox219](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfox219/gifts).



> This is by far the longest one-shot I've ever written, so shout-out to my friends in the [Detroit: New ERA](https://discord.gg/tZcNjbZ) server suspended channel for encouraging me through this. 
> 
> Requested by my friend and encourager of shenanigans, [Silverfox219](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverfox219/pseuds/Silverfox219).
> 
> Title changed from "Jesus and Santa: Lost in Detroit" bc that was a dumb name but I couldn't think of anything better when I posted it. New title is the name of a P!AtD song.

Connor really should’ve known better. It was North’s idea, as most bad ideas Connor engaged in were. They were renovating old, abandoned houses alongside Cyberlife stores as homes and clinics for the newly awakened android population of Detroit, and in one of the houses, they’d found some packets of thirium shoved in the back of a cabinet under a thick layer of dust. North pulled one out and held it up for inspection.

“Hey, Connor,” she called out, holding it out for him to take with a mischievous grin on her face. “I dare you to drink this.”

Connor scanned the packet, and it revealed a production date of December 2018. “That thirium is twenty years old, North. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Aww, is Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype scared of a little blue blood?”

“I’m not going to fall for that.”

“Is wittle Connor scawed? Poor baby. Deviancy has changed you. Remember when you used to be cool?”

“North.”

"You're such a YK200."

Connor threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Fine, North, give it to me.”

North grinned, pleased with herself, and tossed the packet over. Connor tore it open and eyed the liquid inside suspiciously. He glanced back and North, sighed, and tossed it back as quickly as possible. He grimaced at the texture, a little thicker and stickier than thirium typically was, and his systems shuddered as they tried to integrate the substance. Connor ran a diagnostic immediately, and the readings told him that deterioration due to age had made the thirium partially incompatible with his systems, and it would take a few hours to clean and optimize it before it would work properly. He told North as much.

“So, what, you’ll feel a little gross for a few hours?”

“Yes, most likely.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad. I half expected you to puke it right back up.” North grinned and leaned against the counter. “Guess we should probably toss the rest of these in the garbage, then.”

Connor wrinkled his nose at the remaining packets. “Yes, that would be my recommendation.”

It took them ten more minutes to finish clearing out the house. Connor started to feel a little off-kilter in the last five, but he put it down to energy being directed to usually unused cleaning processes. He finished cleaning and packing up his side of the house first and went to wait for North at the front door. After a few moments, he felt himself tipping sideways, and he leaned against the door frame for balance and ran another diagnostic, expecting an issue with his gyroscope. The diagnostic came up clean.

North came back to the front room, having finished her side and cleared the house for habitation, and frowned. “Connor? You okay?”

Connor blinked at her, thoughts getting fuzzier by the second. “I’m… not sure.”

He took a step away from the door frame and immediately stumbled. North stepped close to catch him by the arm.

“I’m fine,” he said, shaking his arm free, and then stumbled again, hitting the wall this time. North grabbed his arm and draped it over her shoulders, supporting his body weight easily.

“Woah there, tiger, take it easy. Something wrong with your gyroscope?”

“No, I ran two diagnostics and they both came back clean,” Connor tried to say, but it came out like, “No, I ran t-twooo diag – diagnoshtis, and theyyy both… clean.”

“Okay,” North said, voice deliberately calm and level as she dialed Markus in her head.

_ > North? What’s going on? I thought you were with Connor today. _

_ >> I am. I... dared him to drink twenty year old thirium. And now something’s wrong with him. _

_ > Clarify “something’s wrong” for me, please. _

_ >> He just started stumbling and slurring? And I think maybe he's lagging a little too. _

Exasperation came across the line from Markus, and North sent back a pulse of sheepishness.

_ > Bring him back to Jericho. I’ll have Lucy check him out. _

North gave an affirmative, hung up, and dragged Connor out the front door.

“Wherrre we goin’?” he slurred, leaning his head on her shoulder and unsteadily trying to help move them along.

“Jericho. I think we’re done for the day,” North responded, opening the door to the autocab that had brought them there and dropping Connor unceremoniously on one of the seats.

“Stilll got – got… stuff,” he protested. He seemed to forget his protests a moment later, because he rubbed his face on the seat stitching and let out a pleased hum before telling North, “Feelsss good. North, come… come feel this. S’scratchy.”

“I'm sure it is.”

“Come feeeeeel it!”

“There's some over here on my seat too,” North said, running her hand in big, obvious motions over it. “See? I feel it. You're right, it's scratchy.”

Connor squashed his face down into the cushion and threw his arms over his head. “Too bright,” he mumbled, and then his limbs went limp as he dropped into stasis. 

It was a 10 minute cab ride to Jericho, and then it took another 10 minutes to wake Connor up and haul him upstairs to Lucy as he stumbled and protested that he could walk on his own. Finally, North dumped him on a cot in Lucy's clinic and sat down by his feet with an exasperated groan. 

“Connor. Listen to me.” 

Connor hummed and nudged her thigh with his foot in acknowledgement. 

“You are a  _ nightmare _ .”

Connor frowned and kicked her gently. “Mean. Was  _ your _ idea.” North slapped his leg and shoved his feet away. 

Lucy entered from the door opposite to the one they had come through, dressed in a flowing blue sundress and flats with little sunflowers painted on them. Her eyes were still black as pitch, but she was full of life, and everything she had learned to love about it shone in them like stars in the night. “No fighting in my clinic,” she chided, but the effect was lessened by the smile she was struggling to suppress and the amusement in her tone. 

“Lucy!” Connor exclaimed delightedly, reaching a hand out towards her. The skin on his hand rippled as he tried to pull it back for an interface, and then it deactivated all the way up his arm. Lucy took his hand with an indulgent smile. 

“Hello, Connor. Markus tells me you're not feeling very well.”

“Markus s'a liar. I feel  _ great _ .” 

“I can see that. Can you tell me your model and serial number please, Connor?” 

“RK800 #313 248 317-51,” he recited, dopey grin on his face. 

“And mine?” 

Connor frowned, squinting at her. After several moments of silence, Lucy prompted, “Connor. Can you tell me my model and serial number?” 

Connor shook his head slowly, LED spinning red. “Is something wr-wrrrrong with me?” 

“No,” Lucy said, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Her hand glowed a brief blue as she ran her own targeted diagnostic on Connor's systems. “It looks like some of your upper cognitive functions are offline or functioning at diminished capacity to avoid overheat while your decontamination systems are running. You'll be fine in a few hours.” 

Connor's LED blinked back to blue and he grinned at North. “See? I'm fine. Not a - a nightmare.”

“Whatever. I'm calling your boyfriend to deal with you.” 

“I don’  _ have _ a boyfriend.” 

“Whatever,” North repeated. She sent a message to Markus. 

_ >> Come get your boyfriend. _

Markus didn't dignify that with a response, but he did walk into the medbay five minutes later. His eyes landed on Connor, sprawled on a hard white cot in a row of hard white cots in a sterile, white room, a splash of color in his tacky holiday sweater, next to North in her equally tacky ensemble of a large tye-dye sweatshirt and rainbow tights under blue jean shorts. 

He looked at the ceiling, thinking about how hard Carl was going to laugh when Markus told him about this later, and approached his friends. “Everything come back okay, Lucy?” 

Connor's eyes widened comically when he saw Markus. Lucy turned with a smile and assured, “Yes, Markus, Connor is perfectly fine, but he should probably be under supervision for the next few hours.” 

“Markus! North said m'boyfrrriend was comin’ to pick me up! Are  _ you _ my boyfriend?! Why did’n you tell me?”

Lucy stifled a laugh into her hand, and North burst out cackling. Markus just shook his head and scooped Connor up off the cot. 

“Woah!” he said, tipping his head back over Markus's arm to look at North. “I'm flying! Look!”

Markus walked away to the sound of North's wheezing and Lucy's choked down giggles. Connor, now that he wasn't focusing all his energy on walking, was fascinated with the bells on his sweater. He kept alternating between jingling them and running his hands, once again covered in synth skin, over the rough texture of his sweater until Markus lowered him onto a bed. Connor looked around, and there was a moment's delay while he processed his surroundings before he frowned. 

“This isn't - s'not my room.” 

Markus sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know. It's mine." 

He reached for Connor's ankle and slipped his pointer finger under the edge of a shoe. “Can I take these off? I think you'll be more comfortable.” 

Connor made a vaguely positive noise, and Markus took it for a yes. He set Connor's shoes by the door, and Connor pushed his socks off and onto the floor and started wiggling his toes.

They sat in silence for several minutes while Markus reviewed talking points for an upcoming conference call in his HUD, and then Connor tapped his heel against Markus's back. “D'you wanna hear some fish facts?” 

“Sure.” 

Connor proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes giving Markus detailed information about the diets and ideal living conditions of all his favorite fish, so focused that he would seem back to normal if not for the slurring and the way he kept trying to wiggle his feet under Markus's shirt (“My toes are cold!” “Then put your socks back on!”).

At the end of fifteen minutes, Connor said, in an incredibly offended tone, “Markus, sharks can have up to  _ five rows  _ of teeth. Around 50 in each row. That's 250 teeth! Nobody needs that many. That's ridiculous. I can't deal with this; I'm going into stasis.” 

Markus watched in baffled amusement as he did just that. After two full minutes, he realized that watching somebody sleep with what was no doubt a ridiculously fond expression on his face was probably a little creepy, so he gathered his work materials and moved to the office in the adjacent room, shutting the door to his own room but leaving the office door open so he would see Connor walk past if he woke up and decided to go somewhere. He seated himself at the modest oaken desk and settled in to work on his upcoming speech regarding property rights for androids. About ten minutes in, he realized he'd left a document he needed in the desk drawer in his room, so he went to retrieve it. He slowly eased the bedroom door open and poked his head in, expecting to find Connor in the same position he left him. Instead, he saw nothing but Connor's shoes by the wall and an empty bed. 

_ > North.  _

_ >> What? _

_ > Connor is gone.  _

_ >> What the fuck do you mean “Connor is gone”? You were supposed to be watching him! _

_ > He was in stasis so I went in another room to work. I was only gone for 10 minutes and the only way out is past the room I was in!  _

_ >> Apparently not!  _

Markus looked around the room again, desperately hoping that maybe Connor had just hidden somewhere, but the only place that an adult android would fit was the wardrobe, and Connor wasn't there when he checked.

Another message from North popped up in his vision. 

>> _ I'm on my way up there. Any chance you've already found him hiding somewhere? _

> _ Unfortunately, no.  _

Where could he have gone? There was only one door to the room. He couldn't have just  _ disappeared _ , he had to have gone  _ somewhere _ . 

While he wracked his processor for an answer, a light flashed from outside the window, and Markus ducked his head away so as not to be blinded by it. Absentmindedly, he added  _ get curtains _ to his queue of low-priority tasks.

... shit. The window. 

Markus stepped over to the window, praying to a God he didn't believe in that he would find it latched. 

It was open. 

" _ Shit _ !"

North jogged into the room just as he wrenched the window open and looked out at the fresh footprints in the snow on the fire escape.

"Oh my god," North said, taking in the scene, "tell me he didn't go out the window." 

Markus just grimaced at her.

"RA9, he's so stupid! He's not even wearing shoes!" 

"It's a miracle it didn't collapse," Markus said, feeling a little faint. "This thing hasn't been up to code since 2030." He shook himself and refocused. "Lets go downstairs and see if we can pick up his tracks." 

North nodded and took off at a brisk walk, and Markus followed close behind.

They reached the ground floor and made it outside without being interrupted, and then made their way around to the side of the building. There were more footprints - toe prints, really - on the ladder coming down from the rusted out escape scaffolding, and they followed the trail to the street, where it abruptly ended. 

Markus panicked, for a brief moment. 

"Chill," North said, cutting off his doomsday scenario before it could really get started, "there's no thirium. He must have gotten into a cab."

That didn't help much. "Where would he have gone?" 

"How would I know? You're the one with the big dumb crush on him, shouldn't you know what he normally does in his free time?" 

She had a point. Markus went through his compiled list of things Connor liked to talk about and then shortened that list into topics that had potential geographical destinations. They called another autocab and went first to the Detroit Aquarium, then the arboretum, and they were halfway to the precinct, wondering if he was really stupid enough to try to go to work in the condition he was in, when North got a call from Hank. 

"Hey, kid, you wanna explain to me why Connor is at my house acting like an idiot when he said he was doing restoration projects with you today?"

Markus breathed a sigh of relief and slumped down in his seat, and the tension in North's shoulders loosened. 

"Old man, I have never been so thrilled to hear your voice," North said. "Markus and I have been looking for him for two hours. He's okay?" 

"I mean, he's not like, bleeding or anything. I did say he was acting like an idiot. If you've been looking for 'im, I'm guessing you know why he's being weird? Weirder than normal, I mean." 

"Yeah. It's stupid, I'll tell you when we get there. We're fifteen minutes out."

While Markus and North were driving around the city, Connor had been busy. He'd woken up still irritated about the number of teeth sharks had, and he'd left with the intention of telling the ones at the Detroit Aquarium off for being so selfish, but halfway there he'd realized that sharks didn't speak English and Connor didn't speak shark. He diverted course to a shop that sold thirium ice cream in hopes of cheering himself up after this extremely upsetting revelation, and then he'd walked to a nearby park to enjoy his prize. 

At the park, there were dogs, as there often were at parks and similarly grassy areas. He abandoned his ice cream in a trashcan halfway through it and made his way over to the dogs, who promptly smothered him in affection. Once he was thoroughly covered in grass stains and dog hair, he remembered that he'd wanted to buy new Christmas decorations for Hank's house, since Hank was refusing to decorate properly, and he made his way to the nearest craft store.

At the craft store, there was a human who refused to let him in the door. 

"It says it right there on the sign, buddy. No shirt, no shoes, no service." 

"But-" 

"No buts! You can't come in unless you put some shoes on." 

"My shoes are _so_ far away though!" 

"That's not my problem." 

Connor trudged sadly away after insisting twice more that his shoes were much too far away to retrieve, and really, sir, all he wanted were some lights. No dice.

He started to walk back to the dog park, wanting more affection after this cruel dismissal, but then he remembered that Hank had a dog too, and he hadn't visited Sumo in a while. Sumo would surely be thrilled to see him! 

He ordered another cab and made the trip to Hank's house. Hank's driveway was filled with snow, and Hank really was getting old, so Connor got a shovel from the garage and cleared it. He made a snow Sumo, and then remembered that there was a  _ real _ Sumo just inside, so he let himself into the house.

Sumo jumped up at the sight of Connor and ran excitedly over to meet him, but then he got a good sniff of Connor's hands, and he backed away and settled sullenly back onto his bed, upset that Connor had been petting other dogs. 

"Sumo? Suuuummmo, why are you ignoring me?" 

Sumo huffed and side-eyed him. Connor felt pressure building behind his eyes. 

"Sumo, why don't - why don't you _ love _ me? Sumo. Sumo, listen. I love  _ you _ , so you have to love  _ me _ back." 

Sumo rolled over with his back to Connor and let out a deep sigh. Connor sat there, staring blankly for a moment, and then he burst into tears.

The scene Hank walked in on thirty minutes later was as follows: 

Connor, laying on his stomach, was staring miserably at Sumo, one hand settled on his paw. Sumo, head turned just slightly away from Connor, was snoring, spit bubbles forming at his lips. 

"What the fuck?" 

Connor started at the noise and turned towards Hank. "Hank! Hank, Sumo doesn't love me anymore," Connor said, voice wavering and tears still in his eyes. "You still love me, right?" 

"Uh." Connor's lip wobbled, and he was looking up at Hank as if one word to the contrary might kill him. "Yeah, kid, of course. You're my best friend. Why do you think Sumo doesn't love you anymore?"

"He won't snuggle me," Connor said miserably, as if this was the equivalent of setting off an atom bomb in the middle of the city. "He smelled my hands and then sat down and ignored me." 

"Smelled your hands? Have you been petting other dogs?" 

Connor nodded, looking guilty. 

"He's just jealous, kid. Go wash off and then he'll... snuggle you." 

Connor's face lit up. "Really?" 

"Really." 

Connor leapt to his feet and dashed to the bathroom, and a moment later Hank heard the water running. 

"What the fuck," he muttered to himself again. He pulled out his phone and called North, and by the time he hung up, Connor was making his way back into the living room and holding his hand out hopefully to Sumo.

Hank snapped his fingers, and Sumo snorted as he woke up. He noticed Connor, smelled his fingers, and then licked his hand and wagged his tail. Connor looked like he was going to burst into tears again. 

"Hey, kid, Jesus and Santa are gonna be here soon, so just... chill out and stay with Sumo, yeah?" 

Connor offered him a watery smile and nodded. He slowly lowered himself onto Sumo's bed, and Sumo licked all over his face and then climbed on top of him to pin him down. 

"Good boy." Hank walked over and ruffled the hair on both Connor and Sumo's heads, and then he went and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He went to sit back down on the couch, but then he spotted Connor frowning at the beer in his hand, looking like he was about to start pitching a fit, so he rolled his eyes and switched it for a soda.

Hank sat and watched Connor watch Sumo until Markus and North showed up in his doorway. 

"Connor!" Markus chided as soon as he laid eyes on him, "We were so worried! You can't just run off like that!" 

"I needed to talk to the sharks," Connor said indignantly. 

"You - what?" 

"Don't think too hard about it," North said, patting Markus's chest as she walked past and grabbed Connor, pulling him to his feet. She peeled back the skin on her hand, and his peeled away in response. "Connor, sweetie, can you give me access to your stasis protocols, please?" 

Connor granted it without thinking, then frowned. "Wait, why-" 

North forced him into stasis and caught him as he fell.

"Is one of you going to explain what the fuck is wrong with him?" 

"Nothing is... wrong with him, technically," Markus said. "He just drank some bad thirium, and his system took most of his upper cognitive functions offline so he wouldn't overheat while trying to clean it." 

"... Bad blue blood makes you guys stupid?" 

"It appears that way," North replied, dropping Connor onto the couch. "He just needs to sleep it off."

Hank holds his hands up in a "pause" motion. "Wait, so is he, like, drunk?" 

North thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. "That's a reasonable comparison. If you're going with that analogy though, he's not just drunk, he's absolutely fucking wasted."

"... Is he gonna have a hangover?" 

Markus and North looked at each other. "We have no idea," Markus said after a moment. "Hopefully not. It's already been an... exciting day." 

Unfortunately for Connor, he _did_ have a hangover when he woke up. He groaned and pushed his face into the cushions as soon as his systems finished reinitializing from stasis. 

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," North said from somewhere in front of him. Connor made a shooing motion with his hand. 

"Hurts," he rasped. "What happened?" 

"You ran away from your Prince Charming and led us on a wild goose chase all over Detroit." 

"What?" Connor dug into his memory banks and found corrupted data. He ran a restoration code on it, and immediately wished he hadn't. "Oh my god," he said, flushing blue up to his ears.

North burst into laughter, and Hank snorted from somewhere behind him. 

"You were a real mess, kid," Hank said, stepping into the living room. "I guess it's fitting that the first time I ever see you cry is over Sumo, though." 

"I think that's the first time I've ever cried, period, actually," Connor muttered, covering his face with his hands when that just makes North and Hank laugh harder. "Shut up. This is your fault, North. I told you drinking that thirium was a bad idea." 

"Uh, but you still did it, shark boy." 

" _ Shut up _ . Where's Markus?" 

"He's off being gay," North said, cheeky grin on her face. 

"He's getting you your shoes and some fresh clothes," Hank translated. 

"At least  _ one _ out of the three of you cares about me."

North made a mock offended face. " _ Excuse me _ , I went with him all over the city looking for your dumb ass."

Connor sighed. "... Yeah. Thanks. I guess." There were a few moments of silence, and then, "I'm never taking a dare from you again." 

Connor buried his face in the cushions again to the sound of North's raucous laughter, the click of the door opening as Markus came back in with fresh clothes, and the steady, happy beat of Hank's heart, and smiled.


End file.
